Friend or duty?
by FireDancer 109
Summary: Will and Horace are tasked with defending an important and vulnerable entrance to Redmont the only problem? There are only two of them and they're fighting against an army. Can they do it? Oneshot.


'Thrum!' Will's bow hums as he releases another arrow and it goes flying over my shoulder. I hear a cry and quickly spin around to see a soldier looking back at me with surprised eyes and sword raised to deliver a killing blow. I watch as he slowly sinks to the ground, an arrow in his chest and once again I am thankful for Will's remarkable skill with a bow and superior senses and reflexes. Without it we would both be dead ten times over. This is just the latest example of those skills. Not many people would have noticed the man sneaking up behind me, let alone been able to make that shot. They probably wouldn't have had the confidence to try. Either way I would be dead or at least severely injured, whether by friend or foe it wouldn't matter. I would ultimately be out of this fight either way. I look at him with thanks in my eyes and a wry grin, nearly a grimace on my face. He meets my eyes and I can see the concern there. My smile becomes real and I nod to him telling him that I'm okay. He quickly nods back and we turn to face the oncoming tide of soldiers running towards us.

There are too many of them for the two of us to actually win this fight. But thankfully we don't have to. All we have to do is hold them off, to defend this position long enough for the King and his cavalry to arrive. As long as they don't take too long we can do that. We are both seasoned fighters, both alone but especially together. I have lost count of the many battles we have fought side by side. We fall into a familiar rhythm; Will killing the approaching soldiers from a distance with his bow. Myself taking out any that get to close quarters, protecting both myself and my best friend. A task that I refuse to fail in.

Soon the steady hum of Will's bow stops and I hear the tell-tale sound of knives being drawn. After dispatching my newest opponent I quickly glance behind me and feel my heart sink as my fears are confirmed. His quiver is empty. His bow now slung over his shoulder is useless without arrows. Now his only weapons are his two short knives. He's not bad with them by any means he's actually quite good but they're not his primary weapon and not very suited to this kind of combat. The danger he is in has just shot up.

Now that Will can no longer provide us with cover we stand back to back facing the oncoming hoard. It could be hours or merely minutes later when I am jolted out of the rhythm of battle by a familiar cry. My heart stops. Frozen in terror. I quickly turn around and dispatch Will's opponent whose sword is coated in blood. Will's blood. They finally managed to get past his guard. I look at Will trying to make sure he is alright and see him clutching his arm. From what I can see it's not a bad wound but it's bad enough. It bleeds freely, blood slowly running down his arm, making every move he makes painful and slightly slower than normal. All this is enough to cause me constant worry as the battle continues. But there is nothing I can do. Not while the battle still wages on.

Then finally the King and his men come flying through the canyon and around us, forcing the attacking army back and finally, finally we can rest. I let out a sigh of relief and feel Will stagger against me. I turn quickly only to see Will collapsing to the ground and I leap forward just in time to catch him before his head hits the ground. Looking at him, he is definatly paler than normal, there is a sheen of sweat on his face and his breathing is harsh. During the fight there had been no time to bandage his wound and although it was not life threatening, it has bled the entire time we have been fighting and his arm is drenched in blood. This blood loss, coupled with the exhaustion of battle, is almost enough to cause him to pass out. I want nothing more than to take him to the infirmary tent then and there. But the battle is still raging on and I am torn between my duty to my friend and to my country.

A hand grips my shoulder and I look up from my position on the floor holding Will and find myself looking into the kind eyes of the King.

"Go take care of your friend." He says gesturing to the tent. "He looks like he needs it." In relief I hurry to do so, picking Will up in my arms, Ignoring his feeble protests that accompany the action. Not needing to be told twice.

As I leave, I hear the King murmuring to the knight beside him.

"God knows he deserves it. They both do. How the hell they managed to hold that many off for that long alone, I'll never know. But I'm glad of it." And I smile.


End file.
